Tamed
by Spindelwhim
Summary: Jareth and Sarah can learn about love from each other, but only if they can trust enough to lower their defenses and allow themselves to be changed by what they discover.  Rated M for a reason. Contains character death, abuse triggers, consensual sex.
1. Chapter 1

It had been around eleven when Sir Didymus shooed the Fire Gang and the other Goblins out of Sarah's bedroom before taking his leave for the evening, with Ludo in tow. Hoggle had stayed behind to help Sarah clean up the glitter, streamers, feathers, and fur their impromptu celebration had left behind; but finally he had departed as well, with a lingering hug and a promise that he would never be further than a wish away.

And so Sarah found herself sitting alone in front of her mirror sometime shortly after midnight when a glimmer of something outside her window caught her eye. She slowly stood and walked to the window, leaning her hands on the sill and peering out into the moonlit night.

Just a few feet from the glass was a barn owl, perched on a tree branch. Its body was orientated toward her, but it had its head turned completely around so that it was looking out across the yard at the next house over. Sarah debated for a moment whether to ignore it, but after holding her hand hesitantly on the window latch for just an instant she unhooked it, and slid the window open. She'd done it as softly as she could, but it still made enough sound to get the owl's attention, and the bird of prey abruptly swiveled its head back around and stared at her imperiously, causing Sarah to step back and let out a gasp she quickly stifled. She stepped forward again, back into the moonlight.

"It's you...isn't it?" she asked meekly.

The bird blinked its eyes once, lazily, but she couldn't be sure if that was any sort of answer. Sarah put her hands on her hips.

"Seriously," she said, sounding a little more sure now that she'd had a moment to regain herself, "I know it's you. I saw you outside the window earlier, when the Goblins were here. What were you doing, anyway? Keeping an eye on them?" she asked, just a little haughtily.

The owl rotated its face a full 180 degrees so that it stared upside-down at her. Sarah stifled an unwanted smile by pressing her lips tightly together, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh please," she scoffed, "are you trying to be _funny_?" She lifted her foot off the ground and took another shaky step forward and leaned out into the night, both her hands on the windowsill.

The owl slowly turned its face back right-side-up and blinked lazily, looking into her eyes. For a moment neither moved.

"_It really is you though, isn't it?_" Sarah whispered. "_The Goblin King_."

The barn owl blinked once more and then, slowly, tipped its head in what Sarah thought might have been a nod.

She glanced over her shoulder toward her mirror, debating whether she should ask Hoggle to come back. But she felt safe, at least for the moment. The Goblin King was far less intimidating as a bird on a tree branch. That, and the moment of her victory over him still was fresh in her mind. What could he possibly do to her now?

"Well..." she said, and then realized she didn't know quite what to say, now that she was certain whom she was talking to. She cleared her throat to stall for time, and then lifted her chin. No matter who—or what—he was, she told herself, she had every right to know what game he was playing at.

"Why did you come here, Goblin King? What do you want?"

For a moment the bird just looked at her, not moving; but then it let out a rasping screech that startled her so badly she bumped her head on the open window before toppling backward in a heap on her bedroom floor. From her vantage point she could see the owl in the tree lower its head and slowly open its wings; and then it cast itself into the air, so effortlessly it seemed as though invisible hands lifted it from the perch, and glided the few feet to the windowsill before throwing its claws forward and sinking them into the wood as it landed. It peered down at her and made a low, creaking sort of sound, and then clicked its beak several times.

Sarah scooted backward to put a few more feet between the two of them. She'd felt significantly more confident when he'd been something she could shut out with a window latch; but now that he'd entered her space, every unnamed threat he'd represented only hours earlier came hurtling into the present.

"W-well? What do you want from me?"

As she watched, the owl in the window seemed to morph into a shadowy blur; the shadow stretched and strained until it blocked the window entirely, and lengthened until it reached the floor; then finally the edges of the shadow sharpened into a familiar and frightening shape. The moonlight filtered through the thin fabric of the white cloak that hung lightly from his shoulders—the same one he'd been wearing when she last saw him. The backlighting from the moon cast his face in shadow, but the memory of his feral smile rose sharply in her mind at the sound of his growly laugh.

"Now now, Sarah," he tut-tutted, "surely you can't be afraid of _me_." His arms were held open, his hands turned upward in an almost conciliatory gesture. He crossed one leg in front of the other, bringing his booted toe down with a thud. "I merely came to congratulate you."

Sarah pulled one knee up to her chest.

"Like I believe that. Why are you really here?"

"Contrary to what you may think," he said, putting his hands on his hips, "I _can _be gracious in defeat. How is your head, by the way?"

"Excuse me?"

He sighed impatiently.

"Your _head. _It looked to me like you may have dented it in the midst of your...hasty retreat." He smiled like he just couldn't help himself.

Sarah reached back and gingerly touched the back of her head, and hissed. The spot prickled and stung, and a throbbing ache was spreading out from it. She rubbed her fingers together, trying to ignore the fact that they felt just a little damp.

"I hope I don't have to call a healer for you," he said, in a mocking tone.

"It's _fine_," she growled, eyeing him warily as he stepped toward her—and staring when he proffered a gloved hand.

"Oh, come come, Sarah; this is undignified. On your feet."

She considered the offered appendage: There was no _obvious _treachery afoot—but, then again, this was the Goblin King.

Still, the gesture seemed sincere; so against her better judgment she took his hand, and allowed him to pull her back to her feet. He stood in front of her, close enough that she could make out his features in spite of the darkness of the room: his shock of white-blond hair, the sharp lines of his cheeks and jaw, the rockstar eye makeup that hinted at his avian form, and his odd-eyed gaze—which, at the moment, was fastened on her.

Sarah lowered her eyes uncomfortably, and made to pull her hand back, but he tightened his grip.

"Ah-ah, Sarah," he chided with a smile, his just-slightly-sharper-than-they-should-be teeth glinting softly in the dim light. "Just a moment." He took her hand in both of his and turned it over: Her fingertips, and now his glove, bore a few tell-tale smudges of red. He frowned.

"As I thought," he said tersely. "Let me see." He released her hand to reach for her head, but she moved away from him.

"Don't!" she squeaked.

"Sarah," he said, a little impatiently, "surely you don't think I came here to harm you?"

The girl scoffed.

"You're the one who tried to trap me in the Labyrinth."

The Goblin King laughed.

"I seem to recall you entered _willingly_."

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but as nothing seemed to want to come out for a moment she was obliged to close it and try again.

"You...you...set the Cleaners on me!" she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

The Goblin King cocked his head to one side, a thin smile playing across his face that was only slightly less predatory than usual.

"Which, apparently, you thought would actually harm you."

Sarah stared at him.

"Are you _kidding_? I almost got torn to pieces!"

"Don't be foolish," he smirked. "That was just a bit of Glamour."

She stared blankly, and his smile evaporated.

"It was a _trick_, Sarah," he said, seemingly exasperated. "You were never in any real danger."

Sarah made a show of putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh really? Then why was Hoggle just as scared as I was?"

He blinked.

"Who?"

"The Dwarf," she snapped.

"Oh. Him." He rolled his eyes. "I suppose he was scared because everyone tells stories about 'the Cleaners,' but if you were to ask Higgle—"

"Hoggle!"

"—_Whatever_, I am fairly certain he would tell you he'd never once actually seen them. Honestly, Sarah, you spent a bit of time in my Labyrinth: Did it look to you like it receives a regular cleaning?"

The involuntary beginnings of a laugh slipped out of her, but she quickly regained her composure and reminded herself she wasn't done being angry with him.

"Fine. Then there was when I had to choose between two doors—one of which led to 'certain death'."

He smirked.

"Death is always certain, Sarah, in the long run. But you'll note that the guards never said it was certain and _immediate_."

She cocked her head.

"Then, by your definition, didn't _either _door lead to 'certain death'?"

He smiled, surprised.

"I suppose you have a point," he said with a faux-gracious nod. "Perhaps I ought to speak to the Oubliette's guards."

Sarah's nostrils flared.

"Oh, and while we're at it," she snapped, "let's talk about _that _as well."

Jareth raised an eyebrow.

"Let's."

"You dropped me in the Oubliette!" she shouted.

"Technically, the Helping Hands dropped you in the Oubliette—by _your _request, if you recall."

"That's not the point!" she snapped.

"Oh?" he said. "Then what is?"

"YOU DROPPED ME IN THE OUBLIETTE!"

The Goblin King shrugged, completely unfazed by her outburst. "And?"

"'_And?_'! And I could've been stuck down there for ages!"

"Ages? No!" he said, looking momentarily affronted. But then he smirked and the look in his eyes turned wicked. "_Forever_," he purred.

Sarah wasn't sure if her face felt hot or cold suddenly.

"But, of course," he added off-handedly, "You _didn't _get stuck down there. In fact, I believe you were rescued almost immediately by that Dwarf, What's-His-Name—"

"Hoggle!"

"—whom _I _sent—"

"To try to get rid of me!"

"—To get you _out _of the Labyrinth you were apparently so worried about being trapped in. _So_," he growled, "the point is moot, I think." He punctuated the last word by swiftly turning his back on her.

"Well, what about...uh..."

The Goblin King slowly turned back on his heel, and raised an eyebrow as he watched her flounder.

"Yes...?"

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment with a groan, trying to recollect herself.

"What about the guards who attacked us in the Goblin City?"

He chuckled a little at that.

"I don't exactly receive many threats these days. I hand-selected my so-called 'guards' based on whether I found them amusing. They are many things; but, as I think you saw, dangerous is not one of them."

She sighed impatiently.

"And the Bog of Eternal Stench?"

He tilted his face down slightly, making his outrageous makeup take on an even more avian aura.

"Oh, the bog definitely smells awful; I'll give you that. But 'eternal'? You met a good number of my subjects; did you notice any who reeked of the bog?"

Sarah thought a moment, and shook her head.

"Indeed," he said. "And how likely do you think it is that, of all the Goblins you encountered, not one had ever, on accident, slipped into the bog? Not even Sir Didymus, who lives in the middle of it?" He stepped a little bit closer, and smiled mischievously. "Not ever?" he asked, leaning toward her. "Not even the tip of one...tiny...toe?"

Sarah noticed that, for some reason, the Goblin King seemed much bigger up close and personal than when he kept at a safe distance (if there was such a thing). She didn't realize she'd been staring at him until he cleared his throat and moved back a little, scowling at her in a way that made her think he found her terribly dense.

"It's nothing but _rumors_, Sarah, rumors that I have allowed to flourish—and that," he added with a flowery twist of the hand, "as necessary, I have augmented with a little bit of...trickery." With a flick of his wrist a crystal ball appeared, resting on his fingertips. He held it out to her.

"So much of what I do is just that," he said. "Crystal balls, smoke and mirrors—fantasies and dreams." With another artful flourish the crystal vanished. "Surely _you _must know by now that things are seldom what they seem."

Sarah's eyebrows knitted together; she was trying to mesh her experiences from earlier that night with the Goblin King's words now.

"So, all that time... You were just trying to scare me?"

"I told you before: You _wanted _me to be frightening; so I played the part. You wanted an adventure that lived up to your imagination, and you got it."

He shifted his weight slightly. She could clearly see the pale blue of his right eye tracing a slow arc across her face, and she assumed its darker twin, which was hidden in shadow, did the same.

"Sarah, I say this without malice—which I know you may find difficult to believe," he added with a smile that bared his teeth slightly. "If I had wanted you dead, then you would be. But as it stands, you escaped my Labyrinth without a bump, scratch, or bruise. Honestly now, think about it: not a splinter, not a papercut, not even a broken nail. So, does it seem likely to you," he asked, his voice dangerously close to becoming patronizing, "that I intend to harm you _now?_"

When she said nothing, he slowly set a gloved hand on her shoulder; but this time she didn't recoil from him.

"Now," he said, slightly more courteously, "let me see."

Sarah looked up at him, not sure what to make of his request. When she couldn't think of a threatening reason he'd want to see her injury, she tilted her head down, so he could see the spot where she'd hit her head on the window.

"_Hmph_. Come sit," he said, pulling her by the arm over to the chair at her desk, and sat her down. As she watched him in the mirror, he again conjured a crystal in his hand. He rolled his thumb over it a few times, somehow causing it to split in two; then he rolled these two in a slow circle across his palm, and slipped one into his opposite hand. He made a wide arc with his left hand, and the crystal transformed into a small bowl that looked like a pearlescent sort of ivory; and when he dropped the remaining crystal in, it transformed to water, and he set the bowl on the table. Reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out a wisp of white fabric that appeared to be made from the same material as his cloak, and he set it into the water.

"You're going to get your gloves wet," Sarah said, watching his hands. "Shouldn't you take them off?"

He eyed her in the mirror as he rung out the excess water back into the bowl.

"No."

Something in his tone made Sarah decide against arguing any further, and he daubed the sore spot on her head with the cloth. Each time he removed it he examined it—to see if she was still bleeding, she guessed. Then he returned it to the bowl, and repeated the process.

She watched his face in the mirror as he worked: His face was wan and thin, his lips pale, and dark shadows hovered under his sharp eyes and beneath his bony cheeks. Perhaps he was tired because it was late at night? Or maybe he'd looked like that when she'd last seen him, but she hadn't noticed.

When he had pressed the cool cloth to her head for a while without moving, and the silence had stretched on long enough, she simply said, "Thank you." For the first time since he'd begun his ministrations his eyes met hers in the mirror. She wasn't sure how to read his expression.

He picked up the bowl and upended it: The remaining water fell into his free hand, abruptly reconstituting itself into a crystal ball again. With a twist of his fingers, the bowl did the same. He pressed his hands together, and the two crystals vanished.

"Couldn't let you injure yourself on the very night of your...victory," he said, the corners of his mouth pulling into a frown for just a moment before he mastered himself. "It would be unsporting of me not to assist—especially since I was the cause. More or less."

"I should be used to barn owls by now," she said dismissively. "You startled me, was all."

She noticed the piece of cloth he'd used was bunched in his hand: Somehow the drops of blood had gone, and it looked already dry.

"Goblin King," she said; he stepped to her side, looking at her directly.

"Yes?" he asked.

Sarah looked down at her lap for a moment.

"Why have you come? Really."

She glanced back up at him, but he had turned his gaze to the mirror to look at her indirectly.

"As I said. I came to congratulate you on your victory."

He paused, but something in his expression suggested he had not said all.

"And?"

"And..." He closed his hand tightly around the bit of fabric, until just the barest trace of it still was visible. "I came to tell you that you will not see me again."

Sarah frowned slightly, trying to decide if somehow this was bad news.

"What about my friends—Hoggle, and the others? Can they—?"

"Yes," he sighed impatiently, holding up his empty hand. "Normally, I'd be cross with them for coming here without my permission; but I'm feeling unusually generous, so I'll let it be this time. So your _friends_," he said, lingering bitterly on the word for an instant, "may still visit you. But you should be aware, Sarah, that I will know when they do."

He smiled again, and this time the moonlight drifted through the window at just the right angle that it glinted off one of his pointed teeth in a way that reminded Sarah of precisely how dangerous he had seemed to her earlier that night.

"You should know that it is very difficult keeping anything from me," he said. He stepped back from her, circling behind and coming to stand at her other side, closer to the window. "But, as I said, you will not be seeing me again—_unless_," he added, raising the hand that held the cloth, "you specifically call on me."

Sarah turned in her chair so that she was facing him.

"Why would I do that? Why would I want you to come here again?"

The Goblin King's face shifted somehow, becoming a practiced blank that she found unreadable. He set the delicate white cloth on her desk.

"If you should want me to return, you know how," he said darkly. "Say your right words."

He stepped back toward the open window, looking at her for a moment.

"Oh, and Sarah," he added, the mischievous smile returning, "I _might _still send you a gift, now and again. Just to remind you that I'm never very far."

His tone suggested both promise and threat, but the grin that came with it suggested rather more of the latter. Sarah stood, but before she could think of anything to say he seemed to take on a glow: After a moment she realized it was the moonlight from outside filtering through him as he became transparent.

"Take care of yourself, precious," his disembodied voice echoed as he faded from sight.

* * *

><p>Sarah spent most of the night tossing fitfully in her bed or pacing the room, by turns. She couldn't make up her mind what to think about the Goblin King's visit. He said he'd never wanted to harm her. And it was true: She'd gotten out of the Labyrinth completely unscathed—which, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely that that was due to either her skill or luck.<p>

But he'd also taken her baby brother, and had seemed genuinely intent on keeping him. Okay, so he may never have tried to hurt her; but if she _hadn't _solved the Labyrinth, what would have happened to Toby? What would have happened to _her_?

Sarah stood looking at herself in the mirror, taking the Goblin King's token in her hand. Had it really all happened that same night? It felt like she had wished her brother away a lifetime ago. Part of that was the strange way time passed during her adventure: While it had taken her hours to get through the Labyrinth and rescue Toby, when she returned home she found she'd been gone only a short while (_"I have reordered time," he snarled as he circled around her_).

But it wasn't just that. It wasn't just that it felt like a memory from long ago: It felt like the girl who wished her baby brother would get stolen by Goblins was another person; and this girl, gazing back at her from the mirror, was... Who? Why did the girl in the mirror suddenly look like a stranger to her? And why did looking her reflection in the eye make her feel like someone else was staring back?

"Hello?" she called, now deeply unsettled by the feeling that there was someone watching from beyond the glass. "Is somebody there?"

Sarah sighed, wondering if it was a cliché to think she was going crazy, and lowered her gaze, twisting the bit of fabric in her hands and watching how the moonlight played across it. It felt feather-soft and fragile.

The Goblin King said he had come to congratulate her. But despite his words, she very much doubted that he was the kind to be so sportsmanlike as that. And she _knew _she'd seen him outside the window soon after Hoggle and the others appeared in her room. But, now that she thought about it, she also remembered looking out the window again sometime in the midst of the festivities and seeing he'd gone.

Which meant he'd left and then decided to come back.

He said she would've died if he'd wanted it, she thought with a shiver. But then he pointed out that, quite to the contrary, she'd come through her ordeal completely unharmed. He'd stressed that point, in fact. What was he trying to tell her?

She thought of the moment when she'd been chasing Toby around the Escher Room, and, in a desperate bid to get to him before her time ran out, she'd jumped. She should have fallen; she should've been hurt. Badly. But as soon as she'd done it, the room spun apart, and she found herself facing the Goblin King once more—for what she'd hoped would be the last time.

He _had_ looked haggard then, she realized ("_I'm exhausted from living up to your expectations of me," he sighed_). At the time, she'd been so focused on saving her brother (that is, fixing her mistake, she thought guiltily) that she hadn't given much thought as to _why _the room had fallen apart like that, _why _she had drifted slowly to a safe landing.

Had he actually _saved _her?

No, she thought forcefully. Whatever he might say, the Goblin King wasn't the sort. He had threatened to take her baby brother from her forever; he'd forced her to run the Labyrinth; he'd tried to terrify Hoggle into betraying his first friend; he'd taken hours off the clock when she was advancing too far for his tastes; he'd manipulated, lied, and terrorized, trying to get what he wanted. And, when none of that had worked, he'd offered her her dreams—if she'd betray her family for them.

She wondered if he even knew how deeply that cut. But then, he'd warned her he could be cruel, hadn't he?

But when he showed up outside her window, and she'd been prepared for another confrontation, he utterly surprised her: No more risky wagers, no more veiled threats; no more tempting promises, either. And he'd seemed genuinely something-like-concerned when she'd hurt herself. He'd actually helped her.

At least, Sarah _thought _he'd helped her. Touching the sore spot on her head gingerly, she noted that it did feel a bit better—and wasn't sprouting horns, or doing anything else strange. She held up the bit of cloth and examined it more closely. It was definitely made of the same stuff as the Goblin King's clothes; and, just as she'd suspected earlier, it was somehow completely dry, and didn't have a mark left on it. Her stepmother would _kill _to know how he got those stains out so easily, she thought with a smile.

There was something else, though: When she held it close to her face (something she felt suddenly compelled to do, even though she couldn't quite say why), she caught just the barest hint of a scent to it—something that reminded her of the air at the very beginning of a rainstorm, and the crackle of lightning. But there was also an earthy note to it, like the leather binding of an old book. And, tucked away within all that, there was also the barest trace of an herbal sort of something, crisp like evergreens on the first day of snow, but with the sharp tang of some rare spice.

Sarah became so intent on identifying the elusive scent that she carried the scrap of fabric back to bed with her, without entirely realizing she was doing so. She curled up in bed, the square of cloth twined in her fingers, and pressed it close to her face. Finally, it seemed, her body's need for sleep was overtaking her mind's anxiety over her unwanted visitor.

And, now that she thought about it, "unwanted" seemed a bit harsh, really. It wasn't as though he'd done anything wrong. Actually, he'd been rather nice, hadn't he? Perhaps the Goblin King wasn't so bad after all. She found herself thinking of one moment in particular, when she'd apparently fallen asleep during her quest: The memory had become hazy, but she remembered feeling like a princess from one of her stories, wandering through a royal ball, looking for... What was it again? And then, she remembered, there had been singing—such a nice voice, she thought, so reassuring. Soothing, really. But she was getting so sleepy all of a sudden; she couldn't quite remember the details. Perhaps the Goblin King would know whom she'd heard singing; if she just asked him to tell her...

And then suddenly the peaceful stupor she was slipping into evaporated, replaced by a dread like falling down into the Oubliette again: and all her mind seemed to scream at once, IT'S A TRICK!

"No!" Sarah shouted, to no one in particular. She was sitting upright in her bed, thoroughly removed from the dream that she'd been caught up in a moment ago. It was the peach all over again, she realized angrily, and some phrase about Greeks bearing gifts stirred in her mind. She looked down at her hand, but the treacherous bit of fabric was gone: In its place, she had only a fistful of owl feathers.

She growled, and stomped over to the window—which, she now noticed, she'd forgotten to close.

"_Ugh!_ I've had enough of your tricks!" she shouted into the night. "I don't ever want to see you again! Never!" She tossed the clump of downy feathers into the air; they drifted through the branches of the tree where the Goblin King had perched before, and were scattered by the wind, drifting far off until they were all out of sight. As she stormed her way back to her bed, she shot an angry glance at her mirror: The unsettling feeling that unseen eyes were watching her instantly vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sarah's ordeal in the Labyrinth had ended, and the Goblin King had flown restlessly through that midsummer evening, trying to put Sarah and her damnable triumph as far behind him as day is from night, he'd thought that maybe he could tell her the truth—about all the gifts he'd given her to feed her childhood dreams, all the times he'd thrilled to watch her live in the world of her imagination—about how he had lived through her.

Over the centuries, from time to time he would gravitate toward a child whose spirit in some way resonated with his. He would take them under his wing (so to speak), smoothing the path ahead of them and nourishing their dreams, so that through them he could very nearly remember what it had been like to hope, and imagine, and wonder; because he himself had so very long ago forgotten how to dream.

For how many years had he nudged the circling stars, how many times had he tugged at the strands of Fate, to keep this child under his influence? How often had he sent her wondering eyes little reminders that there were worlds beyond her world? How many toys and books had he ensured found their way to her hands, inspiring the curious little creature to spin stories and dream for him...?

It had been so easy: After the mother had run off, any gift that showed up on the doorstep purporting to have come from _her _was accepted and handed to the child without question, her father being so terribly afraid he might poison his innocent little girl against her.

(Had he known what Jareth knew, of course, the man would've done more than poison that well; he would've drained it dry and filled it with ash, and salted the adjoining fields for good measure. But that was an aside.)

Slipping her that book had been a particularly impetuous move on his part—but, in his defense, that was before the baby brother showed up. He'd never anticipated her actually having an irritating sibling to wish away. And even given the chance to bring her into the Underground, he knew he shouldn't have.

There was a limit to how much time a child could spend near him: For humans, interacting with anyone—or anything—from his world for long leaves a mark, of sorts. That "touch of Fae" doesn't exactly wash off; and once it's there, human children who have it are permanently set apart from their peers, something inexpressibly but inescapably..._other _about them. Human children with too much Fae in their spirits live lonely, wild, and generally _short _lives.

It would be terribly unsporting of him to repay his dreamers so unkindly; so he'd long ago imposed a rule on himself that he could appear to a child only once. And, even then, it could only be when they were so young that, later in life, they'd remember him as an "imaginary friend"—if they remembered at all.

Sarah Williams had already had her meeting with the Goblin King, although when she was far too young to remember. But that was another story, and one he did his utmost not to think about if he could avoid it, though it would be etched in his mind probably for all his long life.

Nonetheless, the point remained that he had broken his own rule in sending Sarah into the Labyrinth, and he ought to have known there would be consequences.

His dreamer or not, Jareth had anticipated besting Sarah easily. But when she'd eaten the Charmed peach he'd had Halfwit give her, and been whisked away into that phantasmagoria of a Goblin masque, he'd cautiously admitted that he was...proud...to see her make it so far, and was even a little bit happy to tarry a while in that shared illusion.

In that little bit of never-was that only they two would ever need to know about, she'd taken his hand without hesitation; and he'd sung, and they'd danced; and for just the briefest moment, his interest in keeping her there, with him, had not been about running down the clock. When she broke free—of the spell, of the song, of _him_—it surprised him that he felt a twinge not of defeat so much as regret...

And when he set eyes on her in the Escher Room (which he'd had the idea to build after seeing the dratted thing in _her _dreams—not that it mattered anymore), he'd known in his heart that she would beat him in the end. Because he'd been dancing to her tune all along; it was _her _story, and he'd allowed her to claim the role of heroine, while he'd so gleefully played the villain.

Though the Goblin King would likely never admit it—and he'd bog anyone who had the gall to suggest it—it had been shame that carried him away from her window that night—not because he'd lost, but because he'd stooped so low to try to win: The last temptation he'd offered Sarah was to become like the mother who'd abandoned her, and choose her dreams over her brother—her family; but Sarah was _not _her mother, and no one should have known that better than he.

He'd put many miles on his wings when suddenly the thought occurred: He could tell her the truth. It was a novel approach for him, to be sure, but he was in a daring mood. So he'd turned-wing and wheeled back through the night to her windowsill. He would tell her the _real _story. Then she would know he wasn't the monster in this fairytale, but the one who'd driven the monster away. Gods, that practically made him the _hero_.

But then she'd opened the window, and from the moment she'd looked him in the eye he'd known his plan was doomed. He could never be the hero, having played the villain so long and so well—and, strangely, that thought..._hurt. _He'd been so delighted when thischild, whose imagination he had so carefully cultivated, had invited him to play a part in her fantasy-world that he'd failed to consider the consequences: He'd so eagerly joined in the game that he hadn't imagined they could both be changed by it.

He'd known Sarah was at that age when he'd soon have to relinquish her to the brutal and short monotony of mortal life and find himself a new dreamer; so when he'd given her the chance to keep her childhood dreams and she'd made it perfectly clear that she was ready to leave them behind, why had that pained him? He'd been prepared to let her go when the game began; so why, at the end, was he so reluctant to part with her? More to the point, why was it so vexing that _she_ had been willing to part with _him?_

He was going to get some answers. And to do that, he would use Charms and trickery—and just the tiniest bit of the truth.

But like so many of his plans that night, it hadn't gone well at all. Her distrust for him was so strong that even in a Charmed dream she couldn't be persuaded to think well of him for more than an instant. Even her subconscious hated him.

As Sarah shouted her contempt for the Goblin King into the night, in his castle at the center of the Labyrinth Jareth squeezed the crystal he'd been gazing into so hard it cracked clean in half before shattering; and for the first time in over half a century the throne room had gone absolutely _silent_, the Goblins fearful of what their king would do next.

He bogged every last one of them—for staring, for breathing, for whatever bloody thing they were doing—and then for three days and nights he forbid anyone to enter the throne room. When he finally allowed the Goblins back in, he looked haggard and weary, his odd eyes flinty and his pale skin ashen. It took an old matriarch of a she-Goblin hiking up the stairs from the scullery and whacking him upside the head with a ladle before he'd touch a bite of food again, and the fact that he didn't toss her in the Oubliette for a month for sheer cheek instigated a great deal of fierce and worried whispering in the corridors.

Still, things slowly returned to a semblance of normalcy. The days turned to weeks, and those weeks to months, and he scarcely noticed the turning of the stars; but something still stirred in the Labyrinth: He found flowers growing where before there had been none, and the occasional footprint that the rain hadn't washed away—telltale signs that _she _had been there, and that the Labyrinth wasn't going to let him forget it.

His mind and his feet wandered, and all the while he wondered how a girl who (he thought) owed him so much could yet have such power over him—a power he could not name, but that gnawed at him day and night, seeming to drink the blood from his veins and suck the marrow from his bones. It had been centuries since he'd felt so powerfully _alive_ as he had when their game had begun; but now he felt tired, and old, and oh so _weak_. What rare power did his dreamer possess that she could make _him_ weak? And how could he wrest it away from her?

At the moment he lay sprawled sideways across his throne, overseeing the Goblins' latest chicken-harassing escapade with grim resignation. He'd done a lot of thinking since he'd last gone Aboveground—supervising the antics of young Goblins gave him a great deal of time to think. Sometimes he thought about the unusually high number of twins that had been born this Autumn (three pairs of them were tussling on his floor at the moment); and sometimes he thought about the latest tenuous treaty he'd signed with the Unseelie Court, and wondered when that was going to come back to bite him in the tight trousers; but to his immense chagrin—and vehement self-denial—mostly, he thought about _her_.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah went the rest of the summer without any interference from the Goblin King; but her friends from the Labyrinth quickly became a frequent—and very welcome—presence in her life. Hoggle, who had become the most attached to her, visited often. On rainy days when Sarah was stuck inside, Hoggle could often be found in her room, listening as she read stories to him from her books. He was very fond of stories, especially when they had a happy ending.

Sir Didymus was the biggest risk-taker of the lot, unsurprisingly, unafraid to roam the house even when the adults were home. Once, Sarah's stepmother Karen came into the bedroom with a limp Didymus hanging from her hand. Sarah felt her stomach try to curl up and die inside of her, but before she could think of a way to explain what a fox-terrier who wore Medieval clothes and spoke archaic English was doing in the house, Karen plopped him unceremoniously on the floor.

"Honestly, Sarah, would you _try _not to leave your toys lying around? I almost tripped over this silly thing."

It wasn't until she'd closed the bedroom door behind her that the Goblin knight sprang back to life, giving himself an indignant shake and readjusting his feathered hat, which had gone askew while he was being mishandled.

Ludo was the toughest one to deal with, of the trio: He was slow-moving, not particularly bright, and shaped roughly like a sofa with horns. It was difficult for him to navigate the house without inadvertently rearranging the furniture with his bulk, and if anyone came in unexpectedly it'd be impossible to hide him anywhere.

Halloween made for a nice change, though: Not only did Sarah have Ludo come visit, but she actually took him out trick-or-treating with her. People all over the neighborhood came over to marvel at his fantastic "costume," and Ludo was overjoyed to get mobbed by children all night long. Didymus later told Sarah Ludo had conveyed to him that it had been one of the happiest nights of his life.

Ludo loved children the best, so he liked to visit whenever Sarah was watching Toby—so Sarah promised always to tell him when it was babysitting night, and oftentimes the whole trio would show up together. She sometimes worried that letting her little brother grow up with Goblin playmates was going to alter his development somehow; but mostly she worried about what would happen once he started talking, and got to telling Karen all about "Uncle Ludo". But Sarah figured she could cross that bog when she got to it.

Still, with classes back in full swing, Sarah found she had less and less free time to spend with her friends—human or otherwise. The last two years of high school were going to be tough, and she was hoping to get into a good college and study... Well, honestly, she wasn't sure _what _she wanted to study; but she figured getting accepted to college was a good start.

Hoggle took it better than the others. He didn't mind visiting Sarah while she was sitting on her bed, homework and textbooks strewn all around her. She appreciated that he shared her disdain for precalculus, and most of the time he'd hang out in her room amusing himself while she worked. Sarah was just glad for the company.

But Sarah's parents felt increasingly guilty giving her work on top of her school assignments, so they took to hiring a babysitter for Toby whenever they went out. Sarah protested that she really didn't mind looking after her little brother (which mildly shocked her parents); but nonetheless, Sarah now found she was almost never alone at home. The trio sometimes would come visit late at night, when everyone else was asleep, but more often than not by the time Sarah finished her homework she was exhausted and anxious to get to bed. The visits became rare.

So when her seventeenth birthday rolled around, the trio made her promise they could come see her.

"Later!" she'd insisted when they appeared in her mirror. "My parents are taking me out to dinner. But once I get back home..." she smiled and winked.

And, as promised, when she returned home from dinner, she closed her bedroom door and rushed back to the mirror.

"Hoggle, Didymus, Ludo! You guys there?"

The three appeared almost immediately—but the Dwarf looked none too pleased. In particular, Sarah noticed, he put on a considerable scowl whenever he looked in Didymus's general direction.

"Hoggle? What's wrong?" Sarah asked. "Is everything alright?"

"_Hmph_," was all he said in reply.

"My lady," Didymus said, removing his hat and bowing low, "Sir Hoggle has no quarrel with thee. My dear friend and I simply have had...a slight disagreement, of this evening."

Sarah walked towards them.

"A disagreement? Why, Hoggle? What's the matter?"

He tossed the knight one more angry look before answering.

"Well, not long after we talked to you, _Jareth _paid me a little visit," he said, grimacing as he said the Goblin King's name like it had a bad aftertaste. "He tried talking me into bringing you a supposed 'birthday present.' As if I would, after... Well... Bah!" he exclaimed, in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Sarah knew he was referencing the peach the Goblin King had manipulated Hoggle into feeding her, which had nearly kept her from saving Toby. She'd told him several times that she'd forgiven him completely, but she imagined on some level he still felt guilty about it.

"Anyways, I told him he could throw me in the Bog of Eternal Stench head-first with no nose plugs for all I cares, but I _wouldn't_ do it!" he said, stamping his foot for emphasis. "So, Jareth kindly removed himself from my humble abode, and took his so-called _present_ elsewheres."

"That is to say, my lady," Didymus interjected then, "His Majesty summoned me from the bog and asked that _I _deliver his gift unto thee."

At this point Hoggle crossed his arms emphatically over his chest, making quite a display of turning his back on the knight.

"And you actually agreed!" he snorted.

Sarah knelt down in front of them, bringing herself somewhere between Hoggle's and Didymus's eye-levels.

"Is that true, Sir Didymus?" she asked. "Have you brought something...from him?"

"Uh, well..." The stalwart knight seemed momentarily at a loss for words. He sighed, and lowered his head. "My lady, understand," he said imploringly. "I have sworn fealty to King Jareth; it is my duty to obey His Majesty's will."

Sarah frowned.

"But...you disobeyed him before, didn't you, Didymus? I mean, you helped me get into his castle. And he obviously knows that you're my friend."

"That I am, my lady," he said with a toothy, canine smile. "That I am, indeed. I shall not lie to thee: His Majesty was deeply angered by my actions, at first, and accused me of betrayal. But, as I had not broken mine oath to defend His Majesty against threats to his kingdom or his person (which, he eventually agreed, thou art neither), I had therefore not disobeyed him—erm, _directly_, anyway," he said, scratching his nose a bit. "Moreover, I assured him that my loyalty had not changed, but reminded him that I have one _higher_ loyalty—namely, to mine honor: And by that, my lady, I was _bound_ to help thee in thy quest. And so, His Majesty declared me innocent of any wrong-doing, and my knighthood—and honor—unblemished."

Sarah smiled at the conclusion of Didymus's tale, relieved to hear he had not been punished for helping her. After her last encounter with the Goblin King, she'd feared he might do something to her friends; but once she saw them again not long after, she'd simply assumed he'd more or less decided to let the whole thing slide.

She felt a little guilty now for having never asked if there had been consequences for them. And, considering how fond she knew the king was of threatening his subjects with the bog, she was also just a little bit surprised that he _hadn't _done anything to them...

"But, my lady," Didymus went on, "that means that, though I am thy devoted friend, and faithful servant," he said, with an elegant bow, "my loyalty as a knight of the Goblin Kingdom rests with His Majesty, King Jareth. So unless he bid me perform a deed contrary to mine honor, I am duty-bound to obey him."

And with that, Didymus produced from within his cloak a pouch of rich, purple velvet. The fox-terrier held it out to her, cleared his throat, and then started in with a stilted, ceremonial-sounding voice that Sarah worried would carry to her parents' room:

"On behalf of His Majesty King Jareth, son of Aelreth, Lord of the Labyrinth and all the Goblin Kingdom and its residents—lost, found, or stolen, born therein or come from afar—I present this token, and with it convey unto thee His Majesty's most sincere wishes for thy continued health and happiness."

"Um...okay," Sarah said uncertainly, taking the pouch from Didymus, who looked profoundly grateful to have gotten through his speech uninterrupted. As she untied the black ribbon that held the bag closed, she could see Hoggle fighting his urge to look and see what was in it. She turned the velvet pouch over in her hand, and a large, smooth stone fell onto her palm. It was round and flat, and cool to the touch. She looked up at her friends.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It is a stone taken from the Caverns of Reverie, near the northern border of the Goblin Kingdom," Didymus answered. "There is but one entrance to the caverns, extremely difficult to reach except by Dragon; and the stones therein reflect the sky that is seen above the caverns' entrance, no matter how far they are taken from there."

Sure enough, when Sarah examined the stone closely, she saw contained within its polished surface the twinkling of hundreds—_thousands!_—of unfamiliar stars. As she gazed into the stone, she saw a few wisps of cloud drift across it.

"It's... It's lovely," she said, more to herself than to her friends. It was an artful and understated reminder that the Goblin King lived in (ruled over, she corrected herself) a world very different from her own. But she wasn't sure what to make of the gesture: Whywas he sending her a _gift?_ And considering the last two "gifts" he'd given her had put her into some sort of enchanted stupor that made her think she desired his company...

"I don't know. Ludo, what do you think of it?" Sarah asked, handing the stone to her enormous and shaggy-haired friend. Ludo carefully cradled the stone in his massive palm, turning it to peer at it from multiple angles, sniffing at it, and finally holding it up to his ear and squishing up his face as though he were concentrating very hard.

"Huh," he grunted, lowering the stone and gazing at it quizzically. "Stone...strange. Sings funny. Wants...go home." He held it out to Sarah, who took it back from him.

"Thanks, Ludo. So, the stone says it wants to go home... Didymus," she said, turning back to her friend, "did the Goblin King happen to say anything else about this present of his?"

Didymus scratched behind his one ear thoughtfully.

"He did indeed, my lady. He said that, shouldst thou ever desire to see the Caverns of Reverie for thyself, thou needest only wish it of that stone, and it will bear thee hence."

"Hmm..." Sarah turned the stone over in her palm several times, thinking. "So, if I let this stone whisk me away to these caverns you mentioned, I take it the Goblin King neglected to mention how I'm supposed to get back home?"

Didymus raised his eyebrows, looking surprised—and a little bit mortified.

"Well... Um..." He sighed, crestfallen. "That he did, my lady."

"Ah-ha!" Hoggle said, shaking his fist triumphantly and finally turning to face the rest of the group. "I knew that no-good rat was up to somethin'! Trying to abandon Sarah at the top of the Northern Mountains, the dirty—"

"Now now, perhaps the situation is not so sinister as that, Sir Hoggle," Didymus interjected. "It is...conceivable...that Lady Sarah's need of conveyance back to the Above momentarily escaped His Majesty's mind; but I am sure she need only ask and—"

"Ugh, _exactly!_" Hoggle said, tossing his hands in a dismissive gesture. "Sarah'd have to _ask _Jareth to let her go. And you think he'd do somethin' for nothin'? No. Sure as Fairies bite, I'll bet that's exactly what this is—a trick!"

Sarah knelt back down in front of Didymus, who was beginning to get flustered, and petted him on the back of the head.

"You're a brave and loyal knight, Sir Didymus, and the pride of the Goblin Kingdom," she said, causing his tail to wag happily, "and maybe you're right that the king simply forgot that I couldn't get home without his help. But Hoggle has a point: I don't want to have to ask for anything from the Goblin King, and risk the chance that he'll refuse. Do you understand?"

Didymus sighed, but eventually nodded.

"Well then," Sarah said determinedly, standing back up, "I think I know what I should do." She slid the stone back into the velvet pouch (after sparing just one last teensy glance to marvel at how the stars glittered), tied the ribbon closed again, and handed it back to Didymus.

"Please convey to _His Majesty_ my sincere thanks for his well-wishes; but let him know that I cannot possibly accept his gift."

She thought she could see Didymus turning white under all his fur.

"B-but... Well... That is... You see..." he stammered.

"Now Didymus," Sarah said calmly, "you promised the king you would deliver his gift and his message to me, and you've done exactly that. Once you gave it to me, it was mine to do with as I please. So now I'm asking you to give it to the Goblin King. Can you do that for me—my valiant friend?"

Didymus's ear and whiskers perked up slightly.

"That I can, my lady," he said, briefly removing his hat and sweeping it in front of himself as he bowed low again. "As always, I am at thy service." 

* * *

><p>The next time Didymus came bearing a gift from the Goblin King, he arrived looking somewhat rattled; he reluctantly accepted Hoggle's arm to steady himself, the two having apparently made amends since the previous occasion.<p>

"M-my lady," he said shakily between chattering teeth, "I have been sent with another...item...from His Majesty the king." He held up a thin, oddly-shaped parcel that looked to have been hastily wrapped in old linen. "He said that he sincerely regretted that his previous gift did not meet with thy favor, and dearly hopes thou wilt find this one more...uh...suitable."

He warily held out the package to her, but as soon as she reached for it he winced, and Hoggle waved a hand in caution.

"My lady," Didymus said through clenched teeth, as though afraid to be heard, "by mine oath I am duty-bound to hand this...thing...to thee. But I confess I am grievously dismayed at my king's behavior as of late. So might I humbly suggest that, before accepting this, thou ought confer with our mutual friend, Sir Hoggle?"

Confused, Sarah turned to look at Hoggle—who was holding up a very serious-looking pair of gardening gloves.

"Didymus told me what's in there. You might wanna borrow these," he whispered sharply, glancing from side to side as though he were being watched.

Sarah wasn't sure what the Goblin King was up to this time, but it seemed prudent to trust her friends on this one. She took the gardening gloves—which looked like they were made from some sort of reptile hide—and slid them on. Didymus sighed with relief, while Ludo's tail wagged slowly with worry.

Feeling prepared for whatever was coming next, Sarah took the odd parcel from Didymus, and slowly unwound the linen. Contained within, she found a single long-stem rose: Its petals were black as midnight and shimmered coldly, as though they were made of shards of glass; and all along the length of the stem were the wickedest thorns she'd ever seen, like something—well, like something from a fairytale, she thought. A very _dark_ fairytale.

Wrapped around the flower's stem, several thorns stuck through it, was a bit of parchment. Carefully detaching it, Sarah uncurled it: It was a terse, handwritten note in slanted, harsh strokes of black ink that she assumed were from the hand of the Goblin King.

_Since you didn't like my last present—which, I can assure you, was both immensely valuable and exceptionally difficult to acquire—I thought perhaps you'd find something like this more to your tastes. It's a Perdition Rose, cut from my private gardens within the Labyrinth. It blooms once each winter, thrives best on abusive language, and drinks blood through its thorns._

_I rather think it suits you.  
><em>  
>Sarah crumpled the note in her hand.<p>

"Why that...childish...arrogant...mean-spirited...self-centered...vicious...horrible..._monster!_" she shrieked. The black rose shivered a little.

"_Is that the best you can do?_" the malevolent flower creaked at her, with a voice like an octogenarian with a bad smoker's cough. Still, its thorns lengthened another quarter inch or so, and it sprouted half a dozen more of them.

"You tell _him_," she began to say to Didymus, but stopped herself when her friend seemed to cower. "Oh, never mind. I'm sorry, Didymus; he shouldn't have put you in this position in the first place. And anyway, I have a better idea. But Hoggle, I'm gonna need your help."

The Dwarf rubbed his hands together and chuckled gleefully. 

* * *

><p>The Goblin King was riding his throne side-saddle, as usual, while the Goblins were "busy" being their dirty, discordant, and foul-mouthed selves all around the throne room. He held his jeweled riding crop in his hands, twisting it back and forth impatiently.<p>

One of the castle guards, a tallish fellow with a face vaguely reminiscent of an anorexic billy goat, tromped up the stairs, his ill-fitting armor clanging with each step. Jareth groaned, slightly baring his sharp teeth and dramatically laying a gloved hand over his eyes.

"Your Highness!" the guard bleated. "Your Highness!"

The king groaned again, squinting like the very sight of him was mildly painful.

"Ugh_, _what _now?_" he hissed. The starved-goat-looking guard bowed jerkily.

"Your Highness, Sir Didymus has returned, and wishes to see you at once."

Jareth perked up, for once actually sitting properly on his throne.

"What? Well don't just stand there, send him up!" he growled.

"Yes, sir!" the guard said, giving another ridiculous bow that he completed only with extreme difficulty, his armor having apparently all but rusted tight.

"_NOW!_"

"_Yes, sir!_"

The guard half-ran, half-tripped down the staircase, his armor crashing against the walls as he went. Jareth rolled his eyes skyward, muttering something that went unheard over the general din in the room.

After a moment the fox-terrier knight appeared on the threshold, having apparently mounted the stairs two at a time. His slightly overdeveloped sense of honor aside, Sir Didymus was without question the single most loyal subject in the entire kingdom, as he'd proven many years ago; he was utterly fearless, unfailingly truthful—and, best and rarest of all, not infrequently intelligent. Jareth dearly wished he'd gotten the whole litter.

"Sir Didymus, welcome," he said, holding his riding crop in a manner nearly like a royal scepter.

"Your Majesty," his knight answered, bowing gracefully—though, he noticed, just a little unsteadily. Jareth cocked an eyebrow.

"Sir Didymus, my faithful knight, what news from our _dear _Lady Sarah? Did she like her gift?" He smiled wickedly.

"Uh..." Didymus flicked his whiskers in a look of consternation. "Of that, thou wilt be the judge, Your Majesty," he said, deftly crossing the threshold to stand at the foot of the throne. "But she bade me deliver _this_," he said, holding out a familiar, linen-wrapped parcel—and then a hinged wooden box that had been taped shut. On top of the box was a note, folded closed.

Jareth frowned at the wrapped-up rose momentarily—not that he'd actually expected Sarah to accept it. But this other item intrigued him.

"_Well_," Didymus squeaked, "I must be off, Your Majesty. Forgive me; the bog requires its guard after all, and I have been too long away. So, I shall bid thee—_adieu!_" He bowed briskly, and high-tailed it out of the throne room and back down the stairs before he could be dismissed. Jareth could hear him calling for Ambrosius at the bottom of the staircase only a moment later.

Odd, he thought. Sir Didymus was not generally one to be brusk. Still, he shrugged, there was the issue of this mysterious package. Shaking the box experimentally, he could detect nothing inside; and the box felt so light that he wondered if it contained anything at all.

"What game is this, precious?" Taking the note, he carefully unfolded it. Sarah's handwriting was fanciful, with long stems and large loops, but showed the beginnings of settling into a mature style.

_While I thank you for your thoughtful gift, I must, regretfully, return it to you: It really is much better-suited to a person of your demeanor. But, so that you will not think me ungrateful, I have sent you a gift of my own—one of a similar character, and representative of the charms of my own world._

Curious, he slipped a fingernail under the lid of the box, slicing through the tape, and lifted it open: Nothing. Frowning, he turned the box this way and that, lifting it up to look under it in case he had missed something. Dropping the box into his lap, he stared at it dejectedly for a moment, puzzled—but then, on the inside edges of the lid, he noticed hundreds of tiny black specks. As he picked up the box again to examine them more closely, the little black whatever-they-weres drifted slowly into the air in an erratic cloud, and dispersed around the throne room.

Befuddled, Jareth watched as one floated back toward him, and settled on his arm. He felt a pinch, and swatted angrily at the tiny thing, squashing it out of existence. Where it had once been, there was a little smear of red. He growled, his face flush with anger.

_Mosquitos._ The wretch had actually taken the time to send him a box full of _mosquitos!_

Just as the realization dawned on him, the tiny bloodsuckers set upon the other denizens of the throne room, initiating a cacophony of angry squeals and flailing arms. And Jareth, in a fit of ineffectually displaced frustration, got up and kicked every Goblin he could reach down the stairs with a shouted order to find someone—anyone—with some Fairy Stun-Spray.

* * *

><p>The Goblin King had never seen that insufferable Dwarf Hedgefund look so pleased with himself as when he arrived, Stun-Spray in hand, to relieve the throne room of the insect menace. Though he couldn't prove it, Jareth <em>deeply<em> suspected he and his spray both were intimately involved in Sarah's charming little present—not that the absence of definitive proof presented any sort of obstacle to Jareth's way of thinking. His mind was teeming with fantasies of hog-tying that miserable Dwarf and suspending him upside-down in the Oubliette with a swarm of half-starved Fairies for company.

Once the crisis had passed, Jareth sat slumped on his throne and stewed, between his fits of scratching, plotting how he would get Sarah back for this grave insult to his dignity—and his person.

"Wooow, Kingy," said one squat, vaguely piggish Goblin, "you gots bit _lots_."

Jareth narrowed his eyes at him: one of the twins from earlier this year.

"You noticed, did you, Rokkus?"

"Uh-huh!" the Goblin nodded with the entirety of his fat little body, clearly quite proud of his powers of observation. "Those skeeter-things must reeaally like you," he said, pointing emphatically with his pudgy little hand at the mass of angry spots that covered every exposed inch of Jareth's skin. "Looks like you's their _fa-vo-rite_." He smiled what would have been sweetly, if not for his close-set little red eyes, and the large tusks that stuck out of his lower jaw at odd angles.

Jareth blinked and stared blankly for a moment before he pitched his riding crop at Rokkus, wedging it sideways in the insufferably stupid creature's maw with a slimey _thunk._

"Hankyoo, Hingy," the Goblin spluttered, trying to suck up the drool leaking out of his face onto the floor. He pulled the crop out of his lips with a lengthy slurp, and held it up. "You wants this back now?"

The king eyed the Goblin-spittle that slowly ran down the length of his crop and back onto Rokkus's grimy little hands, and groaned.

"Kay. Rokkus jus' holds onto it, then."


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Sarah was suspicious when her "gift" to the Goblin King went unanswered: For weeks, she had a recurring nightmare involving her nemesis feeding her to bog-piranhas (admittedly creatures of her own imagining, though she wouldn't be surprised to find out they actually existed). At the slightest sound she would startle from sleep at night, certain her foe finally had come looking for revenge.

And the Goblin King definitely was into the whole revenge thing: When Sarah first saw Hoggle after he'd played his part in her scheme, he'd looked more than a little pale, and definitely wasn't interested in making "His Majesty" unhappy again anytime soon. The Dwarf didn't want to talk about it, but Sarah eventually managed to get it out of Didymus that the Goblin King had punished him for his role in the plot (which was never proved, but the suspicion had been enough) by making him dig a new Oubliette...and then throw himself in it. It'd been a week before the Goblin King cooled his heels enough to let Hoggle out again.

Sarah was furious, but Hoggle assured her it'd been worth every moment to see the look on the king's flustered face as he impotently swatted at the insect horde that had invaded his throne room. Even Didymus couldn't help laughing at Hoggle's reenactments of the scene he'd found when he'd arrived at the castle that day.

For weeks the semester dragged on, the seemingly never-ending drudgery of schoolwork occasionally punctuated with visits by Sarah's friends from the Labyrinth. But, aside from the Oubliette incident, there was not even a whisper of rumor concerning the Goblin King.

At their last meeting he'd left her confused and uncertain with his statement that he'd never intended her to come to harm in the Labyrinth—and the unspoken suggestion that he may even have actively _protected _her there. But, Sarah thought, that was the same meeting in which he said he'd leave her be unless she called for him, and then immediately proceeded to "magic" her (or whatever) into a dream to try and trick her into doing exactly that.

Sarah couldn't decide what it was the Goblin King wanted with her. Hell, she wondered if _he _even knew what he wanted. But in any case she was sure he'd do just about anything to get it, which was reason enough to keep far, far away from him.

Fortunately school kept her busy enough that she didn't have much time to stew over these things, and before she knew it the semester was over, and Christmas break had come. She had a slew of family members coming into town for the holidays, which would keep her busy most of the time; but she promised her friends they could have a belated celebration of their own after things in the house had quieted down. So on Christmas, after the family had hit the egg nog particularly hard and decided to call it a night, she and her friends came together to have a quiet gift-exchange up in her room.

She gave Hoggle an antique pocket watch she'd found at a garage sale. It didn't work anymore, but since the Underground divided things into thirteens instead of twelves it hardly mattered to the Dwarf, who was just delighted to have something so unique to add to his collection of trinkets and jewels. For Ludo she bought a coffee-table book on rock gardens (he mostly liked it for the pictures, although Didymus had been teaching his big "little brother" how to read), in the hope it might inspire him to a new hobby. And she got Didymus shiny leather boots and a new hat (which he tried on immediately, and grinned bashfully when Sarah told him he looked quite dashing), and also gave him a bag of dog treats and a new collar to take back Underground for Ambrosius.

The trio had brought gifts of their own, as well: Ludo brought Sarah a little potted plant that looked like the bizarre offspring of a rosebush and a cactus. Whatever it was, it cooed pleasantly when she touched it, and Ludo conveyed in his halting way that it would bloom every full moon. Didymus gave her a huge leather-bound tome that detailed the exploits of King Arthur and his knights. When she opened it, Sarah saw that the entire text had been written by hand in the most beautiful calligraphy, and throughout the book were illustrations and bits of illuminated text that seemed to move when she glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. And Hoggle presented her with a delicate gold ring that held a single black stone. He explained it would change color depending on the time of day, and would glow like moonlight in the dark if she wanted it—a fact which she gleefully flicked off her bedroom lights to test. As he'd promised, once the lights were out Sarah needed only envision the stone lighting up, and almost immediately it filled the room with a pale glow, causing her companions to _ooh_ and _ahh_ appreciatively. Ludo cooed and crooned, pronouncing Hoggle's gift "byoo-tee-full," and then patted the Dwarf on the back so hard he toppled end-over-end across the bedroom floor.

More than satisfied, Sarah turned the lights back on and hugged each of her friends tight, thanking them over and over for coming to spend Christmas with her. But then a hush fell over all of them, and the trio exchanged meaningful glances with each other before Didymus cleared his throat.

"Uh, my lady," he said softly, fingering the edges of his tunic. "There is...one..._small_ matter remaining."

"Oh?" Sarah asked, kneeling down in front of him. "What is it, Sir Didymus? Is something wrong?"

"Well," he began, his eyes carefully examining the ceiling for a moment, "I suppose that is a matter of perspective. I have brought another gift for thee—but...not from me."

Sarah sat back on the floor.

"Oh."

"I do not think his intent was malicious, if that concerns thee," he said. "Regard, my lady," he said, removing a small black pouch that hung at his belt and holding it out to her.

Sarah hesitantly took it from her friend's paws. The bag was made of some sort of plain fabric, soft but unremarkable. Whatever it contained within was solid, but she couldn't decide if she thought it felt heavy or not: The mysterious object moved easily in her hands, light as air; but if she held it steady it seemed to weigh heavier and heavier in her palm.

"Didymus, do you know what's in it?"

The canine knight shook his head.

"Nay, I know not. It was given to me thusly."

Sarah shifted it in her hands a few more times, noticing a faintly pleasant warmth coming from within.

"Well, did he say anything when he gave it to you?"

Didymus scratched behind his ear thoughtfully.

"His Majesty was somewhat...subdued in his manner, as I recall. He summoned me this afternoon to ask if he were correct in surmising that we were to visit thee sometime this evening. When I answered that indeed we were, he said he had a request of me: that I see this item safely delivered unto thee."

"Request?" Hoggle piped up. "Did he actually call it a 'request'?"

Didymus cocked his head, thinking.

"Yes. Yes, I am quite certain that he did. Why? Thinkest thou this detail significant, Sir Hoggle?"

The Dwarf tapped his chin and grunted.

"If I know one thing about Jareth, it's that he's used to having things his way. He don't make requests when he could make _demands_—and he can demand anything he wants outta his subjects. 'Specially one of his knights. Uh, no offense," he said, holding up an appeasing hand.

"None taken, good sir," Didymus replied with a gracious bow. "Verily, my lady, Sir Hoggle has a point: As the king is wont to choose his words carefully, it does indeed seem odd that His Majesty should have phrased himself in this way. And 'twas not all that he said."

Sarah looked down at the mysterious item cradled in her palms.

"Okay... So what else did he say?"

"His Majesty stated quite clearly that thou mayest return his gift unopened—and if that be thy choice, then there shall be no reprisal."

Sarah's brow knitted into a frown.

"Hmm..." She held the unknown object up to eye level, trying to discern anything she could from it; but it gave up no secrets. "So he 'requested' that you bring me this, _and_ he said that, if I don't want it, I can return it. No harm, no foul. But he also said 'unopened,' so I'm guessing once I open it...I'm stuck with it. Whatever it is." She tossed the pouch lightly in the air and caught it several times, pleased at the easy way it moved.

"I dunno, guys. Why don't you look at it, and tell me what you think?"

She passed the mystery-gift around to each of her friends: Ludo sniffed at it cautiously, but only shrugged to suggest he had no sense of it either way; Hoggle shifted it back and forth between his hands, eyeing it suspiciously, but ultimately grumbled that he couldn't say one way or the other—though adding that, personally, he was inclined to bog anything that came from Jareth; and Didymus merely held it carefully between his little paws, gazing intently at it for a time before sighing softly.

"My lady," he said then, "there is one...further piece of information which perhaps might aid thee in thy choice." He set the object carefully on the floor in their midst.

"Go on, Didymus," Sarah urged warmly. "What else?"

"Well, thou wilt doubtless recall the previous..._item_," he said, with just a hint of a growl, "that His Majesty bade me convey here. After that incident had ended—uh, that is to say," he added with a soft chuckle, "once the mosquito bites had fully healed—I made it known to His Majesty that, in ordering me to deliver a dangerous package under false pretenses, he had grievously offended mine honor, and in so doing had deeply shamed me..." (Sarah heard Hoggle swallow loudly) "..._and_ himself."

Hoggle stared, open-mouthed.

"You... You said that? To _him?_" He gestured ineffectually, attempting unsuccessfully to summon additional words to express his shock.

Didymus lifted his chin, a look of quiet self-satisfaction on his furry face.

"Indeed I did," he said demurely.

Hoggle smiled wide, with a look of unmitigated awe.

"Geez. I...can't believe you did that! I mean, I woulda thought he'd'a fed you to a Troll or somethin', talking like that!"

"Yeah, Didymus," Sarah added, mouth slightly agape. "I mean, you've certainly proven your courage before" (the knight's whiskers bristled happily at that), "but I never would've expected you to stand up to the king that way."

Didymus straightened and considered his friends, Sarah especially.

"What His Majesty did was beneath the dignity of the king to whom I'd sworn my loyalty, and so I told him as much. A servant's most difficult and yet most _important_ duty is sometimes to say what his master does not wish to hear."

"So...what did he say to that?" Sarah asked in a hushed voice, like a child asking what happens next in a ghost story, both eager and fearful. "What did he _do?_"

Didymus shrugged slightly.

"For a long while, His Majesty said nothing; he merely sat on the throne, apparently in contemplation. I was preparing myself mentally for whatever fate he would decree for me, in order that I might accept it with dignity—but," he said, and at this the knight's expression became somber, "instead of meting out any punishment for my boldness, His Majesty assured me that he would not again ask anything of me that would offend mine honor, nor bring shame upon either of us."

Sarah reached down and picked up the Goblin King's mysterious gift off the floor, considering it again.

"I appreciate your telling me, Sir Didymus. That does help. But please, as my friend, let me ask you...one last question?"

"For thee, anything."

Sarah bit her lower lip.

"Do you trust the Goblin King?"

Didymus opened his mouth for a moment and closed it without speaking; then he looked at the ground, seeming to weigh the question carefully.

"My lady," he said finally, removing his hat to hold it between both forepaws, "perhaps thou hast guessed mine origins already. I was not born a vassal of the Goblin King; but instead, I took my humble beginnings in _this_ world," he said, sweeping a paw toward the window, "as a..." he paused, and mumbled, "as a dog." He looked bashfully at his friends, until Ludo put a comforting hand on him—or, rather, wrapped a comforting hand around him.

Sarah nodded, doing her best to look surprised for her friend's benefit, since it was obvious the admission pained him.

"I thank thee, my brother," Didymus said quietly to Ludo, and then continued his story once his companion released him. "But ever was I a creature of noble sentiments, if humble birth. I sought a worthy lord or lady whom I might serve through all my days—but, alas, in this world my search was...unsuccessful."

He gestured stiffly toward the side of his head. Sarah had never seen Didymus take off his hat for very long when he was close to her; but now she could clearly make out the marred fur and unsightly hole where his left ear ought to have been. She'd never really given much thought before as to how he'd ended up looking the way he did; now she imagined all the various ways Didymus-the-dog might've lost his ear, and none of them was pleasant.

"Verily, I know not how," he continued, "but one night, much wearied by my years of wandering, I came upon a strange land. There I sensed at once that, at long last, I had found a realm where my chivalrous instincts would be charitably received, and was delighted when the king of that realm said that I was welcome to remain there until the end of my days."

"The Goblin King," Sarah said.

Didymus nodded.

"Indeed, my lady, the very same. And one day, when I could no longer count the years that I had dwelt in the Underground, His Majesty named me a knight in his service. It was a proud day for me, indeed. One might say, in the common vernacular," he smiled softly, "that it was a dream come true.

"So, you ask if I trust him, my lady," he said, carefully replacing his hat on his head. "It is no offense against mine oath to say that, _surely_, I know my king is...imperfect. But through the many years I have labored in his service His Majesty has, on many occasions, shown me immeasurable kindness—which, in the name of dignity, forgive me if I do not enumerate them at present. And I have sought to repay him with my loyalty. I have been proud to fight beside my king in battle, and it was my greatest honor once, now many years ago, to give of myself in defense of his life," he said, lightly touching a paw to the patch where his left eye ought to have been.

"Verily, I serve a king whose faults are not few; but I tell thee, his courage and generosity" (Sarah flinched, though her friends didn't seem to notice) "exceed that of most anyone I have yet known, and he has ever been a man of his word. Though he can at times be fickle and selfish, I have seen His Majesty in some of his finest moments—that is, when he has remembered that a king is not the master of his people, but their servant.

"So I say he _is _a good king, although he sometimes forgets. The price I once paid to defend his life I count as nothing; gladly would I do it again, and more. And yes, my lady," he nodded, "I _do_ trust His Majesty, even with my very life—which I would gladly give in his service."

Sarah was moved to hear her friend speak so devotedly of his master—even as she struggled to believe those words were said of the Goblin King. She had to admit, her impression of him had been formed over a single night, and of that very little actually was spent in his company. And Didymus, who'd known him for many years, was describing someone who plainly was _not _the person she'd imagined the king to be.

Still, Didymus was brave to the point of foolishness sometimes, and Sarah suspected he saw the world not as it was but as he wanted it to be. Could it be that her friend, a knight of the Goblin Kingdom, believed so fervently in his code of chivalry and honor that it had clouded his judgment? Or was it more likely that _she_ was wrong about the Goblin King?

"My lady?" Didymus asked, touching a paw to her hand. "Art thou...quite well?"

Sarah hadn't realized she'd been silent for so long.

"Yes—yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Sir Didymus," she said. "I know some of that must have been hard to say, but you are a credit to your king for saying it, and the noblest knight I have ever known." He was the _only _knight she'd ever known, but that hardly seemed the point as she bent down to hug him; and Didymus welcomed her affection enthusiastically—even deigning to accept a loving scratch behind his remaining ear.

Sarah glanced at her other two friends: Ludo smiled happily, his tail set a-wagging; and Hoggle looked, for lack of a more descriptive word, overwhelmed. She knew there was no love lost between him and the king, so she wondered what he thought of the things they'd just heard. But Hoggle looked at her with a slight frown and shrugged, clearly unsure what to advise her to do. And so, having made up her mind, she picked up the Goblin King's gift.

"Alright. You all know everything that's happened between me and the Goblin King so far. But I'm choosing to believe that Sir Didymus is right about him—that there's more to this story than I know—and hope for the best." She exhaled loudly. "I'm gonna open it."

"My lady, I thank thee most heartily for thy trust," Didymus said, taking her fingertips in his paws (since taking her whole hand was entirely out of the question, at his size). "And I swear, if any harm should come to thee by this, I shall hie straight to the castle and renounce my oath, forthwith!"

Sarah laughed in spite of herself at her friend's passion.

"Thank you, Sir Didymus; but I certainly hope it doesn't come to that."

She held the mystery-object in her hand, taking a slow, shaky breath.

"Okay. Here we go."

Tugging gently at the drawstring, she opened the pouch. She peered inside, but some enchantment made it impossible to see what lurked within. With no other option left, she grabbed the pouch by the corner and turned the opening down toward her hand, and felt the object within slide into her palm, warm and feather-light—at which point Sarah realized she'd closed her eyes at some point in this process. But a collective gasp from her comrades made her eyes snap back open, and she looked down at the object in her hand.

It was a crystal. And she knew, without knowing _how _she knew, that it had been formed by the hand of the Goblin King.


	5. Chapter 5

_Wow guys, it's been a year! Sorry about that =\ On the plus side, i'm done with grad school and living the life of a supposedly responsible adult now—which (somehow) translates to more fanfic writing! Yay! And so, at looong last, here is Chapter 5 of Tamed. Thank you so much for your immense patience, and i hope you enjoy the story! ~Spin_

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><p>"Ohh no," Sarah said. "No, no, no. One of his crystals? What's it going to <em>do<em>?"

"I know not," Didymus said gravely, his one ear held low and back. "Here, my lady. Hand it to me, before it can take effect—whatever its purpose."

Didymus held out his paws, and Sarah made to drop the crystal ball: But no sooner had it touched Didymus' paws than it bounced into the air, and plopped back into her hand.

Ludo grunted with confusion, and Hoggle's eyebrows climbed up almost to his hairline in his surprise.

"What the...?" he said. "What's Jareth gone and done _now_?"

"I don't know, Hoggle," Sarah said, examining the crystal a little more closely. It didn't _look _like it was doing anything, nor did she feel any sort of magic taking effect on her—something she thought she'd experienced enough times that she'd recognize the feeling.

"Give it here," Hoggle said, reaching for the crystal. But although Sarah held it out to him without grasping it, the Dwarf couldn't pry the crystal from her palm, no matter how he struggled with it.

"It...won't...budge!" he gasped, already slightly sweaty from the effort.

"My lady," Didymus suggested, "perhaps thou canst dispose of it some other way."

"It's worth a shot," Sarah replied. She went to her bedroom window, unhooked the latch, and swung it open.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Hoggle shrugged. "Go for it."

Sarah nodded and, turning to the window, tossed the crystal out into the night, but it drifted back through the open window to settle once more in her hand.

"You've got to be kidding me." This time she threw it more forcefully—and it returned more forcefully, thunking into her hand hard enough that it stung.

"_Ugh!_" she growled, and tossed it once more out into the night, this time slamming the window shut as soon as she'd done so.

"Uh, Sarah," Hoggle said timidly, "I'm not so sure—"

Sarah screamed and ducked as the crystal came hurtling back at her, flying straight through the glass—but without breaking it, somehow. Sarah stood, her hands hanging down at her sides, and the crystal hovered in mid-air at her eye level, bobbing slightly in a way that somehow managed to be patronizing.

"Okay, _fine,_" she grumbled, "I take it you're not leaving." She held out her hand, and the crystal slowly settled once more in her grasp. "I'm gonna put you back in the bag, and set you on my desk. Is that alright with you?"

She hadn't really expected any sort of answer, of course; but the crystal didn't _do _anything in response, so she took that as something like consent on its part. And sure enough, nothing happened when she put the crystal back in its pouch, nor did it make any attempt to return to her grasp once she set it on her desk, next to her mirror.

"Well," she said, "we'd wondered if I'd be stuck with it once I opened it. I guess that's our answer. What do you think it _does_, though?"

"I dunno," Hoggle said. "It doesn't look like it's done _anything_, so far. Do you feel okay, Sarah? Anything...funny?"

She shook her head.

"_Hmph_," the Dwarf replied. "But that don't mean it won't do somethin' later on. Maybe he's just trying to lull us into a false sense of security. I don't like it."

"My dear Sir Hoggle," Didymus said then, "wouldst thou agree that someone ought keep watch over the Lady Sarah, if perchance the king's, _gift_ should...uh...do something?"

Hoggle squinted slightly.

"It ain't a half-bad idea."

"Then, as it was I who brought this upon thee, my lady Sarah, might _I _take the watch this evening?" the Goblin knight asked.

"You mean, you're gonna stay here for the night?"

"Indeed," he nodded, "and stand guard over thee. Well, that is, if thou wouldst permit it," he added shyly.

"Oh, of course I'll permit it," she said, wanting to reassure her friend. "Thank you, Didymus. That's very brave and honorable of you."

He bowed low. "It is the least I can do."

* * *

><p>For the first few nights, Hoggle and Sir Didymus took turns keeping watch at Sarah's home; but after they'd reached the end of the week without incident, Sarah assured her friends that she was willing to take her chances with the Goblin King's strange gift.<p>

After a bit of experimenting, Sarah had concluded the crystal would let her do just about anything with it, except get rid of it. She could leave it at home when she went to the park without any "objection," but if she left it in any room but hers she would always find it returned to its perch beside her mirror when she got home. She could take it with her, too—but if she tried leaving it in the park or throwing it in the garbage, it stuck fast to her hand.

As she eventually figured out, the whole throwing it and having it float back to her thing only happened in her bedroom, and she would absent-mindedly toss it across the room and have it drift back to her while she daydreamed. Every now and then curiosity would get the better of her, and she would take it out of its black pouch just to examine it again. But, as far as she could tell, it didn't do...anything.

"What are you _for_?" she demanded of it one day, frustrated. "What are you supposed to _do_?" But her questions got no response; and, by her first day back at school, she'd come to accept Jareth's gift as being nothing more than a harmless oddity.

But then, that night, Sarah was awakened by an odd noise, like the faint hum she could sometimes hear coming from electronics in a very quiet room. She had gotten so used to the crystal not doing anything that it took a minute or two before it even occurred to her to check if that was where the noise was coming from. But sure enough, when she walked over to her mirror the crystal was unmistakably the source of the strange sound.

"What's gotten into _you _all of a sudden?" she asked it, picking up the pouch that held it. It felt heavier than usual, and was warm to the touch. "That's weird," she said under her breath, and loosened the strings holding the pouch closed. With the bag open, she could see the crystal glowing with an amber-colored light.

In retrospect, it would later occur to Sarah that she probably ought to have been afraid—or, at the very least, moderately cautious. But without a moment's hesitation she tipped the bag upside-down and let the crystal fall into her hand. It was warm, almost hot; and once in her hand, the crystal stopped humming, although the warmth and glow continued.

"What's going on?" she asked, holding the crystal up closer to her face to look at it. "_Whoa_..."

Inside the crystal appeared a swirling haze, like a sepia-toned mist. And inside the mist, Sarah was stunned to see a busy scene unfolding. The longer she peered into the crystal, the clearer the image became: What she'd originally taken for a crowd of people she could now see was a heated battle—and the contestants were definitely _not _human.

It was a valley, covered in green-gold grass, but everywhere—stretching all the way to the horizon—were thousands upon thousands of soldiers, enmeshed in violent struggle. Many of the soldiers looked to be Goblins, similar to the soldiers Sarah had encountered in the Goblin City, though these were larger and fiercer. The other warriors on the field looked almost human. _Almost_. The sharp lines of their features, the unnatural glow of their skin, and their feral-looking eyes suggested that they were something else entirely.

The almost-humans wore armor made of tooled leather and thick cloth, while the Goblins were attired in metal plate. The former had wooden spears and arrows, while the latter had iron swords and shields. While the human-like soldiers seemed to Sarah to be the better-trained warriors, their wooden weapons were no match against the Goblin's iron, and they were desperately outnumbered.

In the middle of this scene, Sarah now saw, was a monstrously large Goblin, easily three times Ludo's size. His scaly hide was a mottled blackish color, with eyes that glowed a poisonous and sickly shade of green. Long bony spikes ran along his back, sticking out between the plates of his armor, and when he snarled his mouth was full of slender fangs. He carried no weapons; the massive Goblin, just by virtue of his size and strength, was capable of doing terrible harm to his opponents, whose weapons bounced ineffectually off his scales and his armor.

Then, Sarah saw a warrior emerge from the failing ranks of the human-like creatures: Though in shape he resembled them, his armor looked to be made from some sort of rough reptile hide (not unlike Hoggle's gardening gloves, she thought), set in a pattern of smoke-colored plates and scaly spikes that covered him from head to toe, while a rust-colored cloth hood obscured his face. And while his compatriots carried wooden weapons, this strange warrior had a long, shining sword clutched in his hand. Wordlessly, he pointed his blade at the monstrous Goblin, who snarled in anger.

"You would _dare_," the Goblin rumbled, his voice like the roar of a raging fire, "you would _dare _to use iron against me? It's not enough that you've _betrayed _me; but now you take our own weapons and turn them against us!"

The warrior made no answer, but in reply hefted his weapon and swung it at the Goblin, while Sarah stood enrapt, watching this strange battle unfold. The sword-wielder was clearly proficient in the use of his weapon, but the Goblin's immense strength and animal ferocity made him a considerable opponent. At one point, the warrior managed to slash an exposed bit of the Goblin's arm, and the creature howled in pain and anger before lunging at him bodily. The force of the impact knocked the soldier flat on his back, and it looked as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. The Goblin snarled, hunched on all fours in front of him.

"Fool," it growled, "you needn't have died today. But die you shall; and know that you brought this on yourself, boy." The Goblin lurched toward the man, who still lay prone on the ground.

"Ohh, c'mon," Sarah fretted, "get up! You've got to get up! You've _got _to!" But the man, who'd rolled over to try to regain his feet, had only managed to get to his hands and knees before the Goblin pounced. And then, faster than any human could have managed, the man rolled onto his back, throwing his sword at the creature bearing down on him. The Goblin made a horrid noise as the blade found purchase in the hollow of its throat, and after a few more stumbling steps forward it fell down stone dead.

Within moments, the battle came to a stand-still, the combatants murmuring to each other as they watched the warrior who had dispatched the large Goblin regain his footing. Wearily, he made his way to the monstrous corpse and stood considering it for a while, before he reached down and removed his sword from its body. With an angry, wordless shout, he thrust the blade into the ground, and twisted the handle until the sword shattered. Panting, he pushed the muddied and blood-stained hood back to his shoulders, revealing a shock of dirty but identifiably white-blond hair. And then the warrior turned so that Sarah could see his face, and she gasped and dropped the crystal to the floor, its glow immediately going out. Though his face was younger, and anguished in a way she'd never seen, there was no mistaking Jareth, the Goblin King.

For a while she stood motionless, in shock. Then, after her breathing had slowed, she bent down and picked the crystal up off the floor.

"What was that?" she asked. "What did I just see?" She wasn't all that surprised, of course, when the crystal did nothing to respond to her. "What _was _that?!" she demanded again, angrily, shaking the crystal in her hand as though she could compel it to answer. When that didn't work, she sat on the edge of her bed, the crystal held between her hands, and stared at it in the darkness of her room.

* * *

><p>Sarah tried to put the previous night's events out of her mind, but all day at school she could only think of the awful scene she'd witnessed.<p>

Jareth had appeared younger in the battle than the Goblin King she knew: Had the crystal shown her something from his past? Or had she somehow been mistaken, and it wasn't Jareth at all? Or maybe was it all a fiction, shown to her for reasons only the crystal's wily creator would know.

But _why_ would he show her something like that, if it had been fake? Then again, why would he show her that if it had been _real_?

All day, Sarah rolled those questions around in her mind, but came to no satisfactory answers. After she'd finished eating her TV dinner (her parents had gone out for the evening), she clipped Merlin's leash to his collar and led him out the door to go for his evening walk.

The January air was chilly with the promise of coming snowfall as Sarah absent-mindedly put one foot in front of the other, all the while still considering the scene the crystal had shown her the night before. They were only a few houses away from her own when Merlin stopped suddenly, sniffing the air.

"C'mon, boy, we're almost home. What's the matter?" Sarah tugged at the leash, but Merlin sat down on the sidewalk and resolutely refused to go further.

"Ugh. Come _on_, Merlin!" She turned to look at him, frowning, and pulled again at the leash. "Let's...go...home!" With one last tug, she finally convinced the contrarian dog to get back on his feet. Satisfied, she turned back toward the house—and was immediately stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hello, Sarah."

For a long moment she just stared at him. It _couldn't _be, but it was. Standing there on the sidewalk, in the light of a street lamp, was the Goblin King himself.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded.

He smiled for an instant, and then shrugged.

"Visiting," he said lightly.

"B-but...you can't be here!" she insisted. "I didn't call you!"

He cocked his head.

"It's Twelfth Night," he said, in a tone that suggested that statement settled the matter.

"_So?_" she yelled. She'd hoped to sound impressive and indignant, but ended up just coming off as shrill.

"_So_," he said smoothly, "Twelfth Night is the one night a year when the rules get turned upside-down. On any _other _night, I couldn't approach you unless expressly requested to do so. But tonight," he said, making absolutely no effort to hide his amusement, "the rules change. _Everything_ changes."

Sarah's mouth worked uselessly for a moment before she finished collecting her thoughts.

"But... I thought... You... _I_ never agreed to that!"

He smirked.

"It hardly matters whether you _agreed_ to it; Twelfth Night just _is_. Your kind might not put much stock in it anymore, but in my world it is still very much observed." He idly considered his gloved fingertips. "It isn't my fault if you couldn't be bothered to learn a little history before striking a deal with me."

"_I_ didn't 'strike a deal,'" she shouted. "_You _showed up in my space _uninvited_—"

"Oh, so was your opening the window for me _not _an invitation, then?"

She was momentarily flummoxed.

"That's... That's not the point! _You_ said that you wouldn't come back unless I invited you. That's not me striking a deal; that's _you _issuing a proclamation, _Your Majesty. _And, despite your stupid tricks," she said, taking a bold step closer to him, "I _didn't _invite you. So go away."

But he didn't go away; he didn't even move. He just stood there staring at her, a thin smile creeping onto his face that made Sarah's skin want to crawl off and run for its life.

"Oh, Sarah," he said, his voice now dangerously quiet, "you really are in quite over your head. You don't know a thing about Twelfth Night, do you?"

She didn't answer him, but the expression on her face said plainly enough that he was right.

"Twelfth Night," he said patiently, and with no small amount of obvious amusement, "is ruled by _misrule_. It's the night when propriety gets thrown by the wayside, and the usual order upended: The king becomes common, the master becomes the slave," he said, lingering just a little too long on that last phrase, "and all the rules..." (smirking, he stepped towards her, and she hastily stepped back again) "...change."

Her confusion and fear must have been written across her face; because his smirk disappeared into an almost-pout, and he tut-tutted.

"Truly, Sarah, I don't know what wicked thing you're imagining I'm going to do to you. But, given the expression on your face...I almost wish I did." He laughed then, momentarily; but seeing her blanch, his laughter was replaced by a tight-lipped frown.

"_Oh, you're worse than the Goblins_," he grumbled under his breath. "Sarah," he said sharply, putting his fisted hands on his hips, "Twelfth Night is a _holiday_. Since your parents chose to leave you alone with your brother to pass the night unmarked, I thought perhaps you _might_ enjoy seeing how my kind celebrate it." He gestured with his head toward the house. "Come now, Sarah, you don't want to keep everyone waiting."

She pulled back a little farther.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

He rolled his eyes impatiently.

"You are going _home_, aren't you?" he asked, apparently rhetorically. "That's where they are."

"They?"

"Oh. I've...taken the liberty of inviting a somewhat large contingent of Goblins to a Twelfth Night celebration—'at _your_ place,' as you might say."

"_WHAT?_ You let Goblins into the house?!"

"Of course not," he groaned impatiently. "They've been herded out _behind _the house. That fence is tall enough to keep your neighbors from noticing anything. Probably." He shrugged. "You'll see your _friends_," he added quietly, almost managing not to sound bitter.

She considered that for a moment.

"You mean Hoggle and the others? They're there, too?"

"Yes, yes, you have my word," he said with an impatient wave of the hand. "They are all there, waiting for you."

She shifted her weight uneasily.

"There's a catch, isn't there?"

Jareth scoffed. "Why would you assume that I—?"

"—Previous experience," Sarah snapped.

She could hear Jareth's teeth click as his mouth snapped shut. He cocked his head and almost-smiled at her, though she couldn't decide whether the emotion behind it was amusement or upset.

"What do you want me to say, precious? What would it take to ease your mind?"

Sarah crossed her arms.

"Explain this whole Twelfth Night thing to me. I want to know _exactly_ what the rules are."

Jareth nodded stiffly.

"Fine. Twelfth Night marks a reversal of the usual social order: The lord of the manor waits on his servants, the bishop lets the laity run the mass, and the _king_," he said, taking a slow step toward her that went unchallenged this time, "gives up his crown. 'Til dawn, _I_ will not be the Goblin King. My title—and the power that goes with it—will pass to someone else for the night. But we won't know to whom until we start the celebration," he said, reaching an arm out to usher her on, "so why don't you and I—"

"Stop," she said. "One more thing, first."

He stretched out his fingers wide a moment and then flexed them, putting his hand back down at his side.

"What _now?_" he growled.

Sarah looked at him carefully.

"If all the rules have changed, what _exactly _does that mean for..._us?_"

A smirk escaped his control.

"'Us'? I wasn't aware that you and I _were _an 'us.' I'm not sure what you mean."

"Ugh, you know _exactly _what I mean, so would you just answer me? For _once_, just answer!"

He raised his heavily-painted eyebrows.

"Well, we've already established that I could come here," he said, pursing his lips as though thinking hard. "But there _was_ something else. Now, what _was _it...?" His eyes scanned the bare tree branches overhead, his gloved finger pressed to his lips in mock-concentration. "Oh yes, I remember!" he said, with wide eyes and a broad smile. "And I think you'll appreciate this, Sarah: _You have no power over me!_"

He practically crowed with delight.

"Oh, I knew it!" Sarah whined. "I _knew _you would do something like this to me..." She had Merlin's leash in both hands, looking around uncertainly as though trying to decide which direction she could run.

Jareth looked positively put-off.

"Sarah, I haven't 'done' _anything_ to you, nor am I going to. Don't you remember? I _can't_."

She looked up at him sheepishly.

"Why not?"

He sighed dramatically.

"Honestly, Sarah, do you _ever _listen to what you're told? Tonight, I'm not the king—I'm just another citizen of the Goblin Kingdom. So _I _have no power over _you_, either."

Sarah smiled slightly.

"So, what? We're in a situation of mutual powerlessness?"

Jareth pursed his lips.

"I suppose you could see it that way. I prefer to think that you and I are on equal footing. Just for tonight, there can be...a balance between us."

I wasn't aware that you and I _were _an 'us,'" she echoed. But her tone was almost playful, and Jareth smiled without a trace of guile behind it.

"Fair enough," he said, bowing ever-so-slightly at the waist. "Come Sarah," he said, reaching for her.

But she only stood looking at his proffered hand, her arms resolutely by her sides, Merlin's leash still in both her hands.

He frowned, but then Merlin, seeming to take Jareth's outstretched hand as an invitation, walked over and proceeded to sniff and lick the Goblin King's glove. Sarah laughed in spite of herself then, half at Merlin's behavior and half at Jareth's face as he tried to cover obvious amusement with a thin veneer of disdain.

"Your...pet, at least, finds me trustworthy," he said. "Surely you can rely on his instincts in that regard."

"Merlin likes everybody," Sarah replied. "If he trusts _you_, that says more about his lack of judgment than it does about your character."

"Did you hear that?" he replied, in mock-concern to the dog. "Are you just going to let this wastrel impugn your character like that?" He scratched the shaggy dog behind an ear, an arrangement Merlin seemed to find very agreeable. Jareth got down on one knee, putting him at eye-level with the dog, and ruffled Merlin's fur. "There, see? I'm not such a terrible fellow, am I?"

Merlin licked him across the face, making Sarah howl with laughter.

"I'm glad you find that amusing," he said flatly. But he continued petting the dog, and when he glanced up at Sarah he found her smiling back at him—genuinely, properly smiling.

Sarah stepped closer so she could pet Merlin's head, which of course incidentally brought her closer to Jareth. But seeing him kneeling there just a few houses down the street from her home, thoroughly absorbed in administering belly-scratches to her dog (who was now sprawled on the pavement on his back, overjoyed at the attention), it was difficult for her to reconcile this image of him with the Goblin King who had menaced her a few months ago.

But he said he _wasn't _the Goblin King tonight, right?

"What's so funny?" Jareth asked, when Sarah had to stifle a laugh. She grinned sheepishly.

"I was just imagining what you must have looked like covered in mosquito bites."

"That," he said, his smile evaporating as he briskly rose to his feet, "was _not _funny."

"Oh, come on," she said, bolder than usual. "It was a _little _funny."

"It was childish."

"Well, you started it."

"I did no such thing. The first present I sent you—which you callously rejected—was a fine gift."

"It was a trap."

He blinked, his brow furrowed.

"It was what?"

"You said I could use that stone-thing to go to..._wherever_ it's from—"

"—the Caverns of Reverie, north of—"

"—but you neglected to mention how I was supposed to get back _home_ from there."

"I would have known if you were in my realm," he said, his face unreadable. "You could have asked me."

"I would've _had _to ask you, you mean," she replied. "And I told Didymus—"

"—Sir," he clipped.

Sarah blinked.

"What?"

"_Sir _Didymus. Gods know he earned the title—many times over." His eyes were fixed on hers, but his expression was softer than she'd seen before. "Anyway..." he added, his gaze wandering to the ground for a moment, "you were saying?"

Sarah realized her mouth was hanging half-open. She'd quite forgotten what accusation she'd been about to level at him.

"He told me about you, y'know," she said slowly.

"Oh?" Jareth held her gaze. "And what, dare I ask, did he say?"

"He says that you're a good king...and that he trusts you," she answered. Jareth inclined his head, scrutinizing her carefully.

"And what about you?"

Sarah's nose wrinkled.

"What about me?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Sarah looked down at her hands, twisting Merlin's leash this way and that.

"I..."

"Sarah," Jareth said, and she felt his gloved fingertip lift her chin. "Do you _trust_ me, I asked. And I would have your answer." He had stepped closer to her, and his face was grave; but there was no feeling of aggression about him, no sense of threat. "Please," he added.

"I'm...not _afraid_ of you," she supplied hesitantly. "Not as much, anyway."

For a moment he said nothing, his eyes shifting back and forth as he studied her face.

"_You precious thing,_" he said under his breath, musing. "And what _will _it take for you to trust me, I wonder?"

Sarah frowned.

"You could start with the truth."

"I already gave you that," he quipped, his frown matching hers. "That was your _present_."

Sarah's brow furrowed.

"You mean the crystal you sent me? Why, what does it do?"

Jareth sighed impatiently.

"What do you think it does? It tells the truth!" He rolled his eyes toward the street lamp overhead. "_Honestly..._" he muttered.

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak Jareth turned smartly on his heel and walked away.

"Wait," she called after him, tugging on Merlin's leash to urge the dog to follow (which he obligingly did), "where are _you _going?"

"I've a party to attend," Jareth called over his shoulder. "And I can't have you making me tardy."


End file.
